


No, he was not his brother.  Absolutely was not...

by DarkHorseAsh



Category: The West Wing
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Big Brothers, Brotherly Love, Crying, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is so not cannon, Toby is a great big brother, sam gets hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkHorseAsh/pseuds/DarkHorseAsh
Summary: Except all the ways in which he was, as shown by Toby Ziegler in moment after moment throughout Josiah Bartlett's presidency.





	No, he was not his brother.  Absolutely was not...

Sam Seaborn walked slowly into a storefront in New Hampshire with everything he owned in a duffle bag over his shoulder and a backpack on his back.  He stood quietly a few feet inside the room, scanning it with his piercing blue eyes and studying what was going on around him, unsure of where to go.  There were people were bustling around everywhere, yelling over the mostly fake looking walls to communicate with each other.  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he hesitantly began to walk forward, only making it half a dozen feet before letting out a yelp as someone slammed into his shoulder and knocked him to the ground, his dufflebag going flying as he caught himself on his hands.  He pushed himself up to his knees before turning to see a very tall, pretty woman looking quite embarrassed as she offered him a hand and helped him up.  “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you I was trying to get someone’s attention.”  He took the offered hand, letting her pull him up before moving to grab his bag and put it back on his shoulder.  “It’s fine.  I should have been paying attention.”  Sam curled in on himself slightly, staring at his feet, suddenly nervous under her intense stare.  “I’m Sam Seaborn.”  His fingers shook when he offered her his hand, not relaxing until she took it and firmly shook it.  “Oh, you’re the speechwriter Josh has been so excited about!  I’m CJ Cregg, the Press Secretary.  Do you know where you’re going?”  

 

Sam didn’t know where he was going, at all, so he shook his head and tried to ignore the amusement in her eyes as she beckoned him.  “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Toby Ziegler.  He’s your boss.”  He nodded, jogging after her and trying to look less stressed than he felt as he kept pace with the taller woman.  The storefront was small, roughly divided into offices, so as they crossed it Sam could hear people arguing.  Rounding the corner, he and CJ came across Joshua standing glaring at a man who was holding a legal pad and a pen and gesturing at something on the page.  CJ smirked slightly, eyes laughing as she knocks on the wall and draws the attention of both men.  “Sam!”  Josh cries in delight, crossing the space to throw his arms around his old friend and Sam slumps into his grip, the stress of the last two weeks catching up to him as he realized just how tired he was as he leaned into the hug.   _I need a bed, soon._ “Hey, Josh.”  Josh finally released him, and crept out with CJ, leaving Sam facing his new boss.  Toby was glaring, he could feel it, and the annoyance practically pulsating off the man left Sam slightly curled in on himself out of fear.  “H-hello, Sir.  I’m Sam Seaborn.”  He can feel his hand is shaking as he moves and shakes Toby’s, but when he looks up he’s relieved to see the annoyance in Toby’s eyes has been replaced by amusement.  “It’s not sir, kid.  The governor gets called sir everyone else is their first names.  It’s Toby.”  

 

“Sam!”  Sam jerks awake, taking a moment to realize that he is folded up into a seat on a rickety bus, a blanket tossed haphazardly over his aching body.  He shifted so that he could see what was going on around him, looking at the blanket and wondering whose it was because it was worn and soft and definitely not the old, dirty, damaged, rough blanket that had been in his duffle bag for the last three months.  Most of the people on the bus were asleep, CJ sitting next to Josh with her head on the window and Josh’s head on her shoulder, Leo was curled up under a blanket near the front of the bus.  Donna and Margaret were slumped against each other on the seat across from where he had fallen asleep.  A quick scan of those who were awake told him that it was Toby who had called for him.  His boss was sitting on the seat behind him and had one hand on the back of the seat, watching him intently.  “Well good morning there.  Cmon, we have a speech to write.”  He didn’t mention how the younger man had been thrashing only moments earlier, just tossed him a legal pad and a pen and settled in to write.  Sam shook himself, shaking off the memories, before turning his attention to what the older man had thrown at him.

 

Sam was sitting at his desk at the campaign headquarters for the first time in four months.  He and the rest of the staff had been on the road, but it was nice to sleep in the same place for two nights, in his opinion.  It was eight o’clock at night and Sam couldn’t help but glance at his desk calender and wonder if Josh remembered that the next day was his birthday.  He doubted it, as his birthday wasn’t really a celebrated thing for most of his life.   _Maybe I’ll buy myself some cake tomorrow._ He decided as he walked back to his hotel room.  The next morning, Sam got to work early, ducking into his office and putting his bag down before looking up and making a noise of shock.  There were two wrapped parcels on his desk, next to a piece of chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, Sam’s favorite.  The younger man stared at them for a moment, moving to take a picture so he could figure out who had put them there, before quickly sitting down.  For long moments he just looked at the packages, before he carefully moved to unwrap the smaller one.  It turned out to be a notebook, a good one, almost identical to the one Sam used for jotting down notes about topics for speeches that he had filled almost two weeks ago.  Sam’s hands hovered for a moment before he opened the second one, finding in it a warm, thick coat. With a note attached.   _Now you can stop freezing wherever we go._ Sam didn’t have to study it to know he knew the writing.

 

It was election day.  Sam had spent much of his day hunched over a legal pad, trying to look as if he was doing something but not actually doing anything.  Toby had spent much of his day watching Sam, who was looking absolutely exhausted by four PM, and who Toby was almost positive hadn’t eaten all day, and wasn’t even sure when the last time the kid had eaten _was_.  Josh would usually have glared his best friend into eating by now, but he had been running around insanely for the last week and didn’t look like he would be done any time soon so it fell on Toby apparently to make sure that the kid didn’t pass out or die or otherwise become ill due to a lack of food but he still hung back, unsure of if Sam would be angry at having his boss all but order him to eat.  Deciding he didn’t care if Sam was angry, the kid wasn’t looking good.  Fetching two slices of cheese pizza, Sam’s favorite, and grabbing him a bottle of water, he ducked in to sit next to the young man, who was sitting on a worn couch.  He didn’t seem to notice Toby until the plate was placed on his lap, and even then he just sluggishly shifted to look at Toby with confusion in his hazy blue eyes. “You need me to do something?”  Toby shakes his head firmly, gesturing to the plate.  “When was the last time you ate?”  Sam looks like he’s thinking for several moments before shrugging weakly and staring at the food.  “For me?”  Toby nods gently, relieved when Sam begins digging hungrily into the plate of food on his lap, devouring it in only a few short minutes.  He’s shivering from exhaustion, his blue eyes glazed and confused looking as Toby sits next to him, nudging the boy until he set down the legal pad, slumping closer to him.  Toby reached over with his free hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped loosely around Sam’s shoulders, and tucked it around Sam before shifting closer to the younger speechwriter and sitting back, every inch of him screaming to leave.  He was about to move when Sam sleepily whimpered, nuzzling closer into his side, and all the fight drained out of him as he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.  

 

After they had been in the White House for about a month, Toby learned that Sam had kept a scrapbook since the start of the campaign.  “It’s a photo journal!”  The younger boy had weakly protested, but Toby had just smirked and grinned at him.  He had never seen the photos, but he had come across Sam writing a comment below a picture once and had demanded to know what he was doing.  That had been a few days earlier.  Sam had been nervous around him since that, but now he was seeming more relaxed, sprawled on the couch in Toby’s office with a legal pad, writing down what Toby was saying.  They were working on an education speech, an important one, and Sam didn’t mind dictating because he loved listening to Toby write.  Josh poked his head in, smirking when he saw Toby pacing as he spoke, the passion evident in his eyes as Sam wrote as fast as he possibly could.  

 

Sam had finished telling Toby about Laurie, and he was truly shaking as Toby stood over him looking absolutely furious.  “Sam you know how bad this would look for you!”  Sam actually cowered, and something in Toby’s heart absolutely shattered into a million pieces as he stared at the younger man, shame hitting him angrily.  “Sam?”  he asks quietly, moving to put his hand on Sam’s shoulder as the man jerked back violently.  He looked terrified.  “Easy, kid.”  He muttered, latching his hand around Sam’s arm, this time ignoring the flinch, and carefully helping him to the couch.  “Easy, kid.  I’m sorry I yelled.  Breathe for me, kid.”  Sam was shaking, his fingers latching onto Toby’s forearm with a surprising amount of strength considering how hard he was shivering.  “N-n-no, you were right, I shouldn’t have...if it leaks it’ll be my fault...I’ll have to leave.”  Toby gave a firm shake of his head, suddenly feeling fiercely protective of his deputy.  “You’re not going anywhere, not on my watch, kid.”  Sam nodded weakly, leaning against Toby with an exhausted whimper, his thin body resting weakly against the man with a whine.  Toby rested a hand gently on his back, his eyes soft.  “You’ll be alright, kid.  You’ll be alright.”  

 

Toby was stiff next to him, as they were telling the president about the photo of Sam and Laurie.  “I’m feeling a certain...big brotherly connection.   ~~ _I like it_~~ Obviously I’d like to see to see that feeling go away as soon as possible ~~_because he deserves better than me._~~ ”  Sam was shivering slightly as he stumbled his way back to his office, slumping into his chair and grabbing his phone to call Laurie.  Toby followed slowly, watching him intently before going into the office and sitting down.  He was glaring at the younger man, but there wasn’t malice in his eyes,  as he sat next to him.  “I’m supposed to go to the Council’s Office.”  “ ~~you didn’t break the law~~ Do that.  I’m not having you get in trouble and not realize that it was a thing.”  Sam nods, standing and hurrying in the direction of the White House Counsel's Office as fast as he could possibly move.  Toby stood in the doorway, watching.  

 

Sam walked slowly in the direction of Toby’s office.  He had absolutely no desire to talk to the man again after the way he had been so briskly dismissed the last time he had tried to tell him about his brother.  “I didn’t know you had a brother.”  “ ~~I have two~~ I guess it never came up.”  Sam had never been more relieved than when he later got to walk towards the man and signal to him that the shuttle had made it safely.  Toby’s whole demeanor had relaxed.  Sam lagged a few steps behind the others as they exited the building.  The last thing he remembered were the sounds of gunshots and pain and his body falling.  

 

Toby’s scream for help drew all of them at a run as they found the older man kneeling over his deputy, hands pressing firmly against the wound on sam’s chest, his hands and Sam’s shirt and pants covered in blood.  It was pooling underneath them, a fact Toby was clearly ignoring.  “Get help!  Now!”  Josh was staring in horror before Toby snapped in his direction, and he took off.  “Cmon, Sammy.”  Toby whispered, staring down at the boy’s pale face.  “Cmon little brother you can’t die on me.  You can’t die on me.”  

 

Toby was shaking as he sat in the waiting room, barely noticing when CJ crossed the room with a roll of paper towels and began to clean the blood from his hands gently, didn’t really see her at all until she sat next to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him, which made it kind of impossible for him to not notice her.  He shook her off, but CJ was nothing if not persistent, moving around to gently pull her old friend into her arms.  .  He gave up on fighting his emotion, slumping down in her arms as he shook in her arms, looking impossibly small.  “I...he’s going to d-d-die and I’ll never get to tell him I’m sorry for not being good enough.  It was m-m-my fault.  The tent...”  His whimpered words turned into sobs, his body trembling with the force of his agony as CJ wrapped her arms tighter around him and held him as close as she could, murmuring gently to him as her heart broke for them both.

 

He was almost positive that Leo was planning to say that they needed him back at the office, the man had been walking towards him before Toby had shifted to stare up at him with a world of pain in his dark eyes, and Leo had all but frozen, hesitating.  CJ had had to leave, to go back to do some briefings for the press, but Toby hadn’t moved.  On the way out, CJ had spoken to Leo, her words high and angry and scared.  Toby hadn’t heard the words but after that, Leo had not gone near him.

 

Leo kicked him out of the waiting room in the early hours of the morning.  “Go home and sleep!”  Furious at being thrown out and knowing if he closed his eyes all he would see was Sam’s blood, he didn’t go home.  Instead he went outside to join what had become a truly massive candlelight vigil and gave the organizers an update so they could tell everyone what was going on.  Then he went, silently, off to one side, and knelt, setting a candle down with shaking hands as tears streamed down his face.  

 

Sam didn’t die.  That first night, after the surgery, Toby spent in a chair next to his bedside.  CJ tried to convince him to go home but the furious glare he gave her cut off her annoyance pretty fast.  She did come back an hour later and found him asleep, one of his hands gripping Sam’s, his head slumped forward resting on the edge of the bed.  And if she took a picture, well, who had to know.  (Sam did.  It ended up in his ~~scrapbo~~ photo journal once he came back)

 

Toby went to visit him a week later, eyes down, feeling like the worst person in the world for taking a week to show up but he couldn’t even look at the man without feeling incredibly guilty about the tent.  “Hey, kid.”  Sam shifted, blinked up at him with a weak grin.  “Hey there, boss.”  His eyes were amused.  “I’m glad they let you in I had to ban people who weren’t…”  His voice trailed off as he looked away, looking nervous.  Toby studied him in confusion as he sat down in a chair next to the bed.  “You were saying?” “i-had-to-have-them-not-let-people-who-weren’t-family-see-me-because-josh-kept-showing-up-instead-of-working-and-he-was-being-unproductive-so-I-told-them-you-were-my-brother.”  It took Toby’s brain a few minutes to unscramble what Sam had said, but he had to all but force himself not to smile slightly.  “It’s alright, kid.  I’m glad I’ve been deemed worthy of visiting you.”  As he had hoped, Sam laughed, smiling widely.  “I should probably let Josh come back but he was pretty freaked recently.  Keep an eye on him?”  Toby nodded, carefully giving Sam a legal pad and a pencil as he pulled out one of his own as they settled in and began to write.

 

Sam went home after around a month in the hospital, home to a tiny apartment that at that moment had no heat because he hadn’t been there to pay for it.  He came home to an eviction notice and his meager possessions in a box on his doorstep.  The cane in his hand shook violently.  He let himself back in, since the eviction notice didn’t say he was gone till the next day.  He found a backpack and a few more of his possessions, some framed photos, a few of his books, went into a second box.  The clothes had already been in the duffle on top of the box, so there wasn’t much more.  Dropping the bag on the box he realized just how much he was shaking, his leg barely moving, as he stumbled back outside and slumped to the ground next to his car, trying to figure out what to do now.  

 

Toby was sitting on his couch with a beer when his phone rang.  He glanced at the name in surprise, before answering.  “Yea, Sam?”  he was on his feet two minutes later hurrying in the direction of his door as he grabbed his car keys.  “On my way, kid.  I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”  Sam began to protest on the other end that that would mean breaking several speed limits and really he didn’t need to hurry but Toby hung up, driving fast as he could.  He reached the old apartment, finding Sam slumped on the ground next to his car with one hand pressed to the scar on his chest, the other gripping his knee.  Toby all but flew to his side, kneeling down.  He could barely push away the panic because this was all too much like last time.  But it wasn’t, because Sam’s clothes were clean and when Toby touched his shoulder this time, he shifted to look up, relief filling his whole face.  “Toby.”  He muttered weakly, leaning into the man with a weak groan.

 

“What the hell happened now, kid?”  “Evicted, apparently.  I don’t…” here Sam hesitates, head down.  “I...didn’t want to bother anyone but I’m not even supposed to be vertical, much less driving and I took a cab here because my car was here but now I can’t get anywhere, much less carry my stuff out and i…”  Toby cuts him off sharply.  “Alright, where is your stuff?  By your door?”  Sam nods, so Toby hurries inside, slinging the backpack on and the duffle over his shoulder as he balances the boxes and carefully brings them to his car before going back inside.  He knew there weren’t many possessions Sam treasured, but he packed the rest of the photos in a small box he found, along with putting the rest of Sam’s books in two boxes.  When he was on his last time through, he froze.  There was a box in Sam’s nightstand.  In it were two things he recognized well:  a simple notebook and a warm coat. _Oh, kid, what am I going to do with you?_ A few trips later and he was confident he had anything Sam would care about.  The young man looked mostly asleep from his spot on the ground, as Toby carefully moved to help him up.  “Cmon kid, up.  I’ve got you.”  Sam was shivering slightly, so Toby tucked the coat around his shoulder before he slipped the cane from Sam’s limp hand and took most of the man’s weight, getting him settled on the passenger side of the car and setting off for home, glancing at Sam far more than could be considered safe.   _He’ll be alright._

 

Sam tried to refuse to take Toby’s bed but Toby ignored him, deciding “The guy who got shot twice and has been in the hospital for a month gets the bed so get in it or I’ll lock you in.”  The younger man had grinned weakly as Toby helped him to lay down, fingers running over the complicated brace on his knee.  “This doesn’t look fun.”  Sam shrugged weakly.  “Half the reason I’m not supposed to be up it’s not supposed to get much weight.”  He ignored Toby’s glare, slumping back against the bed as Toby tucked a blanket around him and closing his eyes.  

 

“I want to go outside!”  “You’re not supposed to walk, kid!”  “That’s bull!”  “You have a broken knee and a healing heart and I have a doctor’s note that says that you aren’t allowed to walk!  You’re exceedingly lucky I even let you out of bed!”  Sam had no argument against that, so he slumped back down on the couch with a weak groan.  “If I’m not going outside, then you’re letting me write.”  Deciding that this wasn’t a bad compromise, Toby passed his laptop over.  “We have a radio host reception in like, a month and a half write up some specs for some remarks.”  Sam nodded, shifting so he was more comfortable before beginning to type, looking more relaxed than Toby had seen him in a while.  “Shouldn’t you go in?”  “Last night I came back and found you half unconscious from knee pain having fallen because you wouldn’t stay in bed because you’re a moron so today I’m sitting here to make sure you don’t do it again!”  Sam at least had the heart to look slightly bad as he continued writing.  “You have the Asia-Pacific remarks done?”  “Yea.  I’m...trying to be focused on not thinking about the hate groups.”  Toby muttered quietly.

 

Sam nodded, understanding (he had woken up at least half the nights of the last two weeks to Toby’s screams, and he was starting to think the older man might be more emotionally scarred than he was.  “Here, I have some ideas for this reception.”  “Does it include insulting them?”  “no.”  “Why the hell not?”  Sam chuckled slightly at the exasperated look on his brother boss’s face.  “Because I wasn’t told to by my very protective boss.”  he shoots Toby a grin, to show him how much he was just kidding.  “Seriously, Toby, thank you.”

 

It was the end of October and Sam was deciding that he would never complain about bed rest again if it meant he could stop having to get around his apartment on his knee.  He was hunched up on his couch sobbing in terror from nightmares and pain.   _I miss Toby._ He had moved into an apartment of his own but he wished he hadn’t.  It had stairs and the room had no room where a wheelchair (or, really, for a walker) and he had to fight so very hard to get around it hurt so badly he had spent most of the time in bed.  “W-w-want Toby.”  He whimpered weakly, body slumping to the floor next to his couch as he sobbed in agony, hand finding his phone.   _I should be able to get by alone I don’t need help._ He tried to move and then crumpled in agony.  It was long minutes before he could think again and then he had his phone and without thinking about it he dialed it.  “T-t-toby?”

 

Toby had been fighting with interns and if anyone else had been calling he would have snapped their heads off but it was _Sam_ so he didn’t.  “Hey, Sam.”  but the moment he heard Sam’s first whimper he was moving towards his car, verbally trying to soothe the younger man, who he could hear sobbing.  “Sam, Sam I need you to calm down.  It’s ok, Sam.”  He could hear Sam’s terrified sobs, as he forced his voice to stay gentle as he drove ten miles an hour over the speed limit to get to the apartment, where he discovered his new issue.  “Crap, Sam, Sammy, I need you to let me in kiddo.  Please.  I know it hurts but I can’t help you from out here.  Please, Sam.”  

 

Sam was sobbing in agony as he heard what Toby was saying through the phone, heard the banging on the door that _had_ to be him.  His fingers found his cane, but his leg wouldn’t stand so he leaned on the wall and hopped, his hands fumbling with the lock and then the door was open and he crumpled into Toby’s arms sobbing and gasping in absolute agony as he clung to Toby and let himself cry.  

 

The first thing Toby felt was how light Sam was.  He weighed less than he had the last time Toby had helped him, Toby thought, as he all but carried the younger man to the couch and held him close, feeling the boy’s sides heaving as he quietly coaxed him to breathe. Sam wasn’t breathing, not well, but as he struggled it slowly began to slow.   

 

Sam wheeled his way into Toby’s apartment for the first time in a month after a doctor’s appointment (he had had to wait until his monthly lease ran out, but now he was staying with Toby again until he could get around again and now he would be able to go back to work soon) and drew in a breath.  Toby’s furniture had been moved to allow room for his wheelchair to easily get around everything.  The carpet in the living space that he had been dreading was gone, and as he wheeled his way into the kitchen he saw the little townhouse now had a seated lift thing for the stairs.  Toby was in the kitchen, he knew he was, but he wasn’t sure he could find the words to thank him so he just wheeled in and joined Toby in trying to find some dinner at midnight.  

 

Sam was gripping his cane tightly.  He had found it worked better than the walker, but he was desperate to strengthen his leg so that he would be able to get around without it which meant walking.  A lot.  Today, Toby was helping him struggle up and down the stairs but after only twice he was wheezing.  “Damn it!”  he muttered, dropping down next to toby on a step.  “I hate this.  I want to sail again but I can’t if I can barely move.”  something spiked in Toby’s eyes, so Sam inwardly sighed at whatever hairbrained idea his boss had.  “Alright I’ll make you a deal.  Keep you motivated.  When your doctor says you can lose the cane, I’ll finally let you drag me sailing.”  Sam grinned widely; that would be fun.  

 

Toby had somehow found a tape of The President at that radio reception, and he had snuck back some crab puffs, so he and Sam sat on the couch that night and ate crab puffs and watched it over and over laughing till their ribs hurt.  Sam snuck a picture of Toby when he wasn’t looking, his face just making the edge of the frame but most of it was Toby laughing, head thrown back and eyes sparkling in absolute, unrestrained joy.  

 

Sam limped into the West Wing, leaning on Toby (because he was refusing to use his cane for this first walk in).  Every person he walked by stopped to greet him and say how glad they were to see him but he hadn’t seen Josh in a few days and he was excited to (ok, he was pathetic, but Josh was one of his best friend’s and he missed joking with him) and he was surprised as Toby led him towards the Oval Office.  He gives a questioning look, so Toby explains, “The President wants to see you.”  Whatever Sam expected it was not to walk into the oval office and see the entire communications staff (and the senior staff and other people he was friends with) standing under a banner that said, “Welcome Back, Sam.”  Sam was grinning so wide that it hurt as he nudged Toby to walk forward towards the group.  “You guys...Thank you so much.”  

 

Sam had no idea who’s idea that had been, but it was the best hour he had had in years.  Ginger and CJ and Josh would later give him a dozen photos that would find their way into his book, but none was better than the one from the moment he walked in.  He was gripping Toby’s arm, both of them smiling widely and looking so happy.  Sam was settled on his couch, since he found it more comfortable, with his laptop open and working on a speech.   _I’m home._

 

Sam was used to being woken up, either by his leg or Toby’s screams (or his own).  If it was the latter, he would hobble to Toby’s bedroom and shake him awake as best he could.  If it  was him screaming Toby would usually do the same for him, although he was better at it because he had full strength.  Those nights were slowly growing less frequent, which was a relief to Sam because he hated hearing Toby whisper in soft agony about feeling Sam’s blood on his hands.  

 

Toby didn’t tease him after the Ainsley Debate.  He found Sam in his office crying the next morning and just plopped down across the desk from him and asked “What’s wrong?”  Sam looked up, with shaking eyes, muttering softly, “If I’m not the best why keep me around.”  Toby had been quick to reassure him that he wasn’t going anywhere but that certainly did not help his opinion of Ainsley when she first began to work for the White House.  In his opinion, anyone who upset Sam that much didn’t deserve to be someone whom he liked.  Plus, she was a republican, and if that made Toby dislike her on spec, then it was no one’s business.

 

“Saaaammmm I hate singing!”  “I don’t care, you’re going to show up and you’re going to look friendly.”  “Why?”  “Because you owe me for….something?”  “Fine.”  Toby did eventually have fun, and someone had snapped a fabulous picture of the four of them, those two and Josh and CJ, grinning at Ainsley who was actually smiling quite widely.  Toby had whined and complained about it all the way home but he had been grinning, especially when he saw Sam limp his way up the stairs without his leg shaking and with minimal weight on his cane.  “Your knee is doing good.”  Sam makes a noise of agreement as he flops down on the couch and props his leg up with a yawn, flipping on the tv and pulling his laptop up onto his back.  His eyes are sparkling with amusement.  

 

Sam glared at Toby over his reading glasses as Toby glared back at him.  “You are not not eating.”  “I’m not hungry.”  Toby promptly ignored the younger man, ordering his food and helping him up.  “Come on, you need to walk around, stretch out your leg, get your creative juices flowing again.”  He doesn’t mention the way Sam winces when he puts the leg down, or the grip on his arm that is tighter than it has been for a while.  Sam had been getting better at getting around but the pain had been obviously worse today.  They had barely walked halfway down the plane before Sam had to stop, ducking into the bathroom.  Toby sighed, closely following the younger man.  He rested one hand on Sam’s back as the young man hunched over the toilet, gagging.  Sam’s body shook as he gasped, and Toby sighed softly, suddenly angry at himself for suggesting walking when he knew the younger man was in so much pain.  He carefully wrapped an arm around his deputy’s shoulders and just knelt there, wishing with every ounce of his being that he could feel Sam’s pain instead.

 

Toby knew that Sam still wasn’t happy with the speech even after they had spent the entire flight rewriting it.  “Hey, kid, it came out good.  Stop being so angry at yourself for not telling me earlier that you were struggling with it.”  Neither of them were _at_ the speech, Sam because he was tired of the looks he got with his still-awkward gait and the fact everyone knew what had happened to him and Toby because there was **no way** he was leaving Sam alone to stew in his misery, and if he had said he was staying behind because he had a sprained ankle, then that was his business.  He was sitting typing while Sam lay stretched out on the couch trying to ice his knee (and failing, because he was _so not good at tolerating cold_ .  Sam turned away slightly when Toby spoke, still looking frustrated.  “Except I didn’t tell you and this is a major speech and I screwed it up because I was so distracted.”  “No, you didn’t.  The speech came out great, and I’m pretty sure no one is going to blame you for a bullet wound distracting you.  Really, it’s the best excuse ever.”  As he had hoped, that comment drew a slight laugh out of them both, and the atmosphere of the room seemed decidedly more relaxed.   _He’ll be fine_ Toby silently decided as he tossed Sam a bag of potato chips.   _He’ll be just fine._

 


End file.
